Some animals don’t just walk beside us —
they become part of us.

Smudge was that cat.
Not just a companion, but the love of my life:
a steady presence, a guide, a muse
who shaped the way I see, feel, and create.

She lives in every corner of my life, still.

Anyone who’s loved an animal knows this:
they open our hearts.
And when that happens, everything changes.
We see the world a little more kindly,
a little more fully.

The love of my life – my muse 

Some animals don’t just walk beside us—they leave their mark on our hearts. Smudge was that kind of cat for me. Not just a companion, but a presence that felt utterly whole, utterly herself, and completely attuned to the quiet spaces in my life.

From the moment she arrived, it felt as if she had always been part of the rhythm of my days. She didn’t demand attention. She simply was, and somehow that was enough. Her calm, steady presence slipped into the corners where words or people couldn’t reach me, and there she stayed.

The Steady Anchor

Smudge had a remarkable steadiness. She wasn’t pushy or loud, yet her presence was undeniable. On days when I felt unmoored, she would settle beside me quietly. No expectations, no fuss—just a soft, grounding presence. Her purrs seemed to smooth out the tension in my own chest, and being near her reminded me that it was okay to simply be.

Even when I wasn’t home, there was a sense of her absence that reminded me of how intertwined our lives had become. Anyone who’s loved an animal like this knows exactly what I mean.

Personally Speaking-painting from my book

Adventures and Lessons

We shared small adventures close to home. She tolerated her harness with quiet grace, and together we explored gardens, parks, and the natural world around us. I remember seeing her sitting among magpies, bush rats, and even a fox, utterly at ease. She belonged wherever she chose to be.

Smudge didn’t trust easily. Men and children often made her wary. She carried past experiences in her body and boundaries, and she let me know what felt safe. Learning to respect her limits taught me a lot about patience, observation, and listening without interference.

Traveling with her was another lesson. Early on, I followed the “rules” and used a carrier, but the stress nearly overwhelmed her. That’s when I learned: front seat, cushion on my lap, gentle presence—that was how she could journey safely. Even trips to the vet, which she never enjoyed, ended with a softening once she felt the ride home and the comfort of being close.

Through every move, every change, every quiet or chaotic moment of life, she remained a constant. In many ways, she became my confidante. I spoke to her more than I did to most people—and I suspect she understood me in ways few could.

what she did best

The Muse Behind My Life

Smudge shaped my art in ways subtle but profound. When she curled up near my paints or wandered across my sketches, her presence seemed to open something in me. She reminded me to listen—to my inner voice, to the animals I paint, to the spaces between things where meaning quietly lives.

Even in her later years, slowing with age, there was still a spark in her eyes. Saying goodbye was breaking and beautiful all at once. Holding her close, whispering thanks and farewells, I felt the depth of the bond we shared. It wasn’t ending; it was changing form.

The Love That Stays

I created a book, Smudge: Personally Speaking, to honour her life. It became a way to work through grief and to share her with others—her presence, her story, and the wisdom she offered. I found her personally rich with the ways of 9 endangered wild cats

Smudge is no longer here in body, but she lives in everything I create. In every pause, every brushstroke, every story I tell, she continues to teach me about presence, connection, and love that doesn’t fade.

May you experience that same depth of connection with another being in your own life.

Till next time, keep creative in your world…..blaze

I want to share a prayer I wrote for Smudge.
It surfaced in one of those quiet moments when I felt her near,
even though she wasn’t here.
It’s not refined—just as it came.
Sometimes, when the heart aches,
it speaks in poetry.

Somehow, Smudge always seemed to understand me better than I understood myself.She wasn’t just a cat who shared my home—she shared my life. Every little gesture, every quiet look touched me in ways I never realized- a thread connecting us. Even now, I feel that thread, even in her absence. So here’s my prayer …….

Grief has a way of tearing us wide open.
Writing this prayer was just me, sitting with the ache of missing her,
and the quiet comfort of still feeling her close.
Thank you Smudge. I love you always.

From the painting – Personally Speaking – in my Smudge book -check it out.

Thank you so much for reading this Prayer. I love to share with you and it isn’t always perfect.
See you again soon.
Keep creative in your world…blaze

I post often about Smudge and the little book
that I created to honour her life and legacy.
It came to me in unexpected ways
and I am more than a little grateful for
this journey with Smudge that
added a richness to my world
I could not have expected.

Holding Smudge in My Hands

Each time I pick up Smudge: Personally Speaking, I’m in awe of what I’m holding. It really feels like I had nothing to do with it. Ridiculous, I know—but after her passing, I was so out of it that I honestly don’t know where it came from.

The Wonder of Life

There’s so much more to this reality than we realise, and I’m constantly amazed by the way life unfolds: creation, trust, kindness, grace, and above all, gratitude for the small things. These are the things that carry us into experiences we could never have forced or planned.

For me, Smudge and this book were exactly that. They grew out of listening, of feeling into her world—or perhaps seeing her world through my own awareness.

Flowing with the Process

The paintings came together with a kind of ease that’s unusual for me. I’ve had to learn to get out of my own way—often after a metaphorical nudge, or two.

Looking back, I was raw with grief after Smudge passed. Drawing and writing weren’t conscious acts—they were energy moving through me, a contagious pull I couldn’t resist. Smudge, my art, and this process often feel like my reason for living. I was completely absorbed.

There was no plan. It simply unfolded, step by step. Before long, it was done—a work pulled from deep sadness into life. A way to honour our time together, and to shine a light on other beautiful, wild, endangered cats.

A Shared Human Experience

This experience, the mixture of grief, love, and creation, is something we all share in some way. The book continues my own journey toward awareness, a way of releasing grief, sharing my story, and embracing a world that is, still, endlessly full of possibility.

Publishing it was its own challenge. But the greatest joy is seeing Smudge now sitting with others who take the time to slowly immerse themselves in the energy of her pages—just as she healed me.

The Interwoven Threads

All things are connected—artworks, words, stories. They touch us in different ways, in ways we don’t always expect. And for me, that is the wonder of it all.

If  ‘Smudge- personally speaking’ tweaks your interest check her out and the beautiful prints of all the paintings in the book -here on my website –  blazewarrender.com   – the book and prints for you to browse are in ‘SHOP’ – https://blazewarrender.com/product/smudge/

A Life Lesson from Smudge

What this project taught me is the beauty of mutual dependency. Smudge relied on me, just as I relied on her—to expand my awareness, to notice more deeply, to grow.

This work touched me with inspiration and planted a seed. It caught my attention in exactly the way something needs to, for growth to happen within us. That’s how real change, real opening, begins.

Always thank you so much for reading my musings.Wishing you all things creative in your life……blaze